


Next of Kin

by popfly



Series: This Might Help Ficlets [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, Fix-It, M/M, preslash, this might help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 06:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <a href="http://www.keysmashblog.com">Keysmash</a>'s This Might Help challenge, week nine, episode 3.09 "The Girl Who Knew Too Much".</p>
    </blockquote>





	Next of Kin

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Keysmash](http://www.keysmashblog.com)'s This Might Help challenge, week nine, episode 3.09 "The Girl Who Knew Too Much".

Stiles juggles his phone from hand to hand, watching Cora’s eyes drift closed and listening to her breaths evening out. He waits until she’s all the way under, then waits a little longer, before thumbing through his contacts and pressing send.

Derek answers on the first ring, because Stiles is a texter and only calls if it’s important, and Derek knows that.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and in less fraught circumstances Stiles might play coy or try to flirt a little in his own awkward, stilted way. Now is not the time for that, and he exhales heavily into the phone.

“It’s Cora,” he starts, and he’s surprised Derek doesn’t burst into the room immediately. Stiles can hear rustling on the other end, the jingling of keys.

“Where?”

“The hospital. I don’t know what’s wrong.” Stiles pinches the bridge of his nose, hears the loft door slide open, then closed, Derek’s breath coming faster in his ear. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Just,” Stiles starts, and goes quiet when Cora shifts on the bed. She doesn’t wake, just flinches a little and then settles, and Stiles sighs. “Don’t kill yourself getting here. Or anyone else.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, but Stiles doesn’t want to hang up. He’s freaked out, and exhausted, and even Derek’s erratic breathing is comforting to him. The sounds of him unlocking his car, starting the engine. The ambient noise changes, like Derek put him on speaker. Hands free, then, meaning he’s keeping Stiles on the line. Stiles slumps in his chair, relieved.

“Four minutes,” Derek says, and Stiles leans his head back, keeping his phone pressed to his ear.

"I'll wait."


End file.
